Month: December 2018

The next few days flew by, and before I knew it, it was Friday. My brother, Giles had arrived on the morning train and was upstairs getting settled in to his room. I had received a message from the Abberline’s saying that they wouldn’t miss my farewell party for the world. So happily everything was set.

Mrs Mc Ginty had been preparing the meal for several days, I had no inkling of what we were about to receive, only that it would probably the finest meal I would receive this side of the ocean.

Whilst his wife laboured in the kitchen, I had her husband busy upstairs loading my steamer trunk with all the clothes and other necessities that I would need in my new position. As well as the tools of my trade, I instructed him to load my microscope, a few of what I considered essential medical tomes and as many boxes of pills and potions that it would safely carry. I fully intended to be prepared for any emergency.

I spent a pleasant day showing Giles round the sights of London, He was surprised by the squalor and poverty that he encountered. But as I explained to him, the populace of London were not as self-sufficient as their country cousins.

We arrived back home about tea time, plenty of time to relax and prepare ourselves for the evening’s festivities. Personally speaking, it was something of a bitter sweet celebration. I was leaving my home and friends and travelling to a country that might be openly hostile towards me. I knew I was on the road to redemption. But was this truly the way!

Where in February he was posted to the new No.74 Squadron, again as a flight commander. He returned to France with this unit at the end of March, claiming 36 more victories between the 12th of April ands the 16th of June, 17 of them in S.E.5a D278.

He claimed four in a day on the 21st of May, Three in a day on two occasions and two in a day on seven occasions. A warded a D.S.O. and bar, he was considered to be an outstanding Patrol Leader and on the 8th of June he was given command 0f 85 squadron when “Billy” Bishop was recalled to England.

He claimed seven further victories by the 22nd of July, but on the 26thof that month, having shared with his wingman in shooting down a two- seater, his 61st victory, when his aircraft was hit by ground fire when flying low over the German lines. And he crashed to his death in flames in S.E.5a E1295, in which he had claimed all his recent victories since joining the unit.

He was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross on the 18th of July 1919, the citation crediting with 59 victories. The 61 claims which he actually recorded ( or were made for him, as in the case of the last one ) Included 30 and 5 share destroyed, 3 and 2 shared captured, 1 balloon destroyed, plus 17 and 1 shared out of control.

Mannock was one of the most decorated men in the British armed Forces, He received the Victoria Cross the Highest British award for gallantry, The Distinguished Service Order with two Bars and the Military Cross twice.

Unfortunately, Fred wasn’t at the Police Station so I left a message with the Desk Sergeant who promised that Inspector Abberline would receive my message the moment he arrived back at the station.

I had no concern that Fred and Lizzie wouldn’t be at the party, I had also sent a letter to my sibling, Giles asking if he would be so good as to take a trip up to London. It might well be a little while before we see each other again, and it would be good to go with his blessing.

I had tentatively mentioned the idea of a party to Mrs Mc Ginty, she seemed delighted with the idea. I think when she initially heard that I was leaving I believe she had the impression that she would lose her employment and also a home for herself and her husband.

I explained to her that at the moment I could not confirm the amount of guests, but it may be three, possibly more. She assured me that it would not be a problem and that she would prepare something special, both for my guests and myself.

That was another problem solved, I had a little time on my hands, so I decided to visit the Military Tailor and see how my uniforms were progressing. The tailor remembered me, mainly because there had been so few doctors passing through his Establishment in recent years, he asked me to take a seat for a moment whilst he checked on the progress of my order with the workroom. He returned in a few moments with my uniforms folded over his arm.

He led me through to a fitting room, where I tried them on. Once I was wearing them, he pushed, prodded and adjusted until he was satisfied with the fit. He was obviously a craftsman, and nothing left his without his own and his customers complete satisfaction.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a man transformed from civilian to soldier. I don’t know if it was state of mind or just the wearing of the uniform, but my whole bearing seemed to change. I looked and felt like an Officer, raw maybe, but nonetheless an officer.

The local peasants having something of a superstitious background, believed that there was a vampire in their midst. They sent a spokesmen to the town to express their concerns to the Mayor and Council. The Mayor who being an educated man was sceptical until a girl who was known to him was abducted from the town.

He at once called out the local militia, and a thorough search was made. The girl’s remains were found on land belonging to the Karlstadt family.

The Karlstadt’s eldest son, Anders was known to be a bit of a libertine with the local peasant girls. The superstitious peasants immediately placed the blame on the Karstadts. They of course denied any knowledge of it, which inflamed the peasants even more.

A meeting was held, but by diplomacy and threats, The Mayor and Council managed to keep them in check. Then the following day, the Mayor’s only daughter went missing. The hue and cry was raised and once again her corpse was found on Karlstadt land.

The Mayor confused by feelings of grief and a hunger for revenge, raised a mob of like-minded peasants and townsfolk with the express purpose of wiping out the Karlstadt’s and ridding themselves of the curse of the vampire. Once and for all.

What began as a show of force, soon turned in to a mob. screaming for blood and vengeance. They would burn down the castle, and destroy the curse of the Karlstadt’s for eternity.

The town priest, pushed to the front of the mob, exhorting them in the name of the Holy Father to cease this madness. But he was soon pushed aside by sheer weight of numbers as they advanced on the castle and its inhabitants. Be they human or vampire, the word had spread, More and more people were joining the revolt against the Karlstadt’s.

They all turned in unison toward where they had heard the sound of several horses. The new arrivals were wearing the red coats with black facings and black cuffs, brass buttons and gold edged black tricornes of the Regiment Dillon.

Once they had dismounted and attended to their horses, they came towards the four companions. Their leader was an older distinguished looking man, Conor studied him, he certainly had that air of nobility about him, he had to be the Lord Dillon, his father, Conor suddenly felt quite vulnerable.

The Lord saw Black Michael and Shamus and broke into a smile, ‘I might have known you pair of rogues would be involved when I heard that some Irishmen had been attacking our allies?’ he was grinning, he obviously knew them both well, but where do I fit in this equation, thought Conor.

‘Did I hear the story correctly, there is one amongst you who claims to be my son, which of you, is he?’ he asked looking towards James and myself. ‘I am Conor Dillon, your Lordship, and I have a letter of introduction from my Mother, I stated, then reaching inside my shirt, ‘And this ring, which you may recognise by the crest, which I believe is your own?’ I paused to let my words have and effect.

‘And what do you expect from me boy, if I admit to siring you?’ asked his Lordship. ‘I want recognition as your bastard son, or are you planning to have me killed, the same as you did my father, with an hired assassin,’ I stated angrily.

‘Believe me boy, because I speak the truth, I am aware that the killing of your Father was done in my name, but never by my orders, your Father and I were friends and I grieve his passing!’ he stated in what to my young ears sounded like sincerity and sorrow, I was even more confused now.

‘Well!’ said the Major, ‘ I wish you the best of luck in South Africa, and here’s to your safe return, he offered me his hand which I happily shook, I rather liked the Major.

After the Major had left, I sat and took stock of my situation, I had a mere five days to get my affairs in order before I sailed off to war. The first priority was to visit the tailor and ensure that I had my uniforms, whilst there it may be a good idea to get extra shirts and underwear. If it was as hot there as I had been led to believe I would probably need them.

The one thing that I had not considered suddenly sprung to mind, should I make a will. It, certainly wasn’t my intention to die for my country, but I was going to be facing a well armed and hostile foe. It was certainly something to give consideration too.

But for the moment I had more pressing concerns to deal with, today was the 10th and I was due to sail on Sunday, which was the 15th. I had planned to hold a farewell party for a few close friends, but I think the latest I can envisage holding it is Friday night. I can see Saturday being last minute panic day and I’m usually so organised.

I had to go out on some matter or other which took me to within a few streets of 11 Division. So I called in to see Fred Abberline to invite him and his wife Lizzie in person, other than family they were probably my closest friends.

Mannock was born in 1887 to an English Father, Edward Mannock and an Irish Mother. His Father served in the British Army and Mannock spent much of his earlier life in India. Mannock was a sickly child and developed many ailments in his formative years.

Upon his return to England, he became a fervent supporter of Irish Nationalism and The Irish Home Rule Movement, but later became a member of the Independent Labour Party where he satisfied his interest in politics.

In 1914, Mannock was working as a telephone engineer in Turkey. After the Ottoman Empires entry in to the war on the side of the Central Powers, he was interned. As a prisoner he was badly treated and soon fell ill. The Turkish Authorities repatriated him to Britain believing him to be unfit for war service.

Mannock recovered and joined the Royal Engineers then transferred to the Royal Army Medical Corps. He moved services again and in 1916 joined the Royal Flying Corps. After completing his training he was assigned to No.40 Squadron R.F.C. Mannock went into combat on the Western Front participating in three separate combat tours. After a slow start he began to prove himself as an exceptional pilot, scoring his first victory on the 7th of May 1917.

His total had risen to 15 by the end of September for which he was awarded the Military Cross with Bar and promoted to Flight Commander. The squadron then converted from Nieuport’s to S.E.5’s in which he claimed one further victory during January 1918. He was then returned to Home Establishment.

‘Have you any questions you would like to ask, this may be the last time we meet,’ stated the Major. ‘Who will be my travelling companions, do you know?’ I asked in reply. ‘I do, as it happens, you will be travelling with the first contingent of The Imperial Yeomanry, like you they are all volunteers, you should get along fine with them.’

‘Will I have my own cabin, or will I be sharing?’ I asked, more out of curiosity than concern.’ ‘That, I am afraid is out of my hands, you will receive your allocation from the ships Officers, but if you are sharing it will be with another Officer’ I was assured.

‘Will I be given the opportunity to train some of the soldiers in basic Medical skills, so that in the field they may attend to each others wounds and injuries,’ I queried. ‘That, I am afraid depends on you and their Commanding Officer, they will have time on their hands, he will be a fool if he does not accept your offer. But unfortunately I can not order him to do so!

‘So, I will have to make my own negotiations, and try to convince him of the worth of what I am offering!’ I asked, seeking conformation of his words.

‘Yes! I am afraid you will have to sell him your proposals and the benefits to him and to his unit, Do you think you can do that? asked the Major. ‘I don’t see why not, I’ve sold bigger proposals in Whitechapel and put up a convincing argument on my own and my patient’s behalf,’ I replied part to re-assure the Major and also myself!

I had been wounded in the Crimean Conflict, In what was to be one of the last actions of that war. I was not well enough to return with the rest of the Army and so I was left in the care of the nuns in a convent in Sevastopol, with instructions to make my own way back to England when I had recovered sufficiently.

Among the nuns who cared for me was one who spoke quite passible English. As my health was restored and her duties permitted, she would often sit and chat with me. I found it a pleasant diversion from the tedium of the convent / hospital routine, even more so, now that I was on the mend.

She told me that she originated from a town called Karlstadt, which was situated in the Carpathian Mountains. And that her father, when he was alive, had been Headmaster of the school there, He was an accomplished scholar and had taught her several languages.

The town was named Karlstadt in honour of the local nobility, the Karlstadt family who lived in the castle on the hill overlooking the town itself.

She explained to me that the townsfolk lived an idyllic life in the Carpathian foothills. that is until ten years previously, when within a period of several weeks, young girls began to disappear from the outlying villages. She confirmed that by young she meant unmarried girls in their late teens. They were all eventually found, dead with puncture marks upon their necks as if someone or something had been sucking their blood.

Shamus, knowing he had gained the moral advantage asked, ‘Could not a rider be sent to find Lord Dillon, he will wish to be informed of why his son has been delayed in this fashion it may help your cause a little.’

I’ll send one of my aides, immediately, until he returns if you give your paroles you will be freed as long as you stray within the Inn and its grounds. I will have a cordon around the area so you would be wise not to try to escape, we don’t want any more accidents?’ he stated, and we clearly understood the menace in his words.

The moment they were freed, Conor walked over to Black Michael and said, The debt between us is paid in full, you owe me nothing but I would value your friendship.’ A grin ing Michael offered his hand which Conor happily took.

‘Well, if we can venture outside, we can keep our weapon training up to scratch, but we must not harm any of these delicate little Frenchie’s!’ said Shamus.

It was their third day at the Inn, Conor and James were practicing with their swords, Black Michael and Shamus sat swigging ale and offering criticism of the younger pair, who being of similar height and builds were quite evenly matched and both highly competitive. James feinted to the left, Conor appeared to have fallen for the move, James was waiting for Conor’s counter, but he did the total opposite and James was left disarmed and wondering how it happened.

Black Michael offered his congratulations, ‘That was a nice move, boy, he never saw it coming!’ ‘Too right!’ agreed James, ‘I’m glad I’m on your side, I would hate to be your enemy, you’re lethal.’

(C) Damian Grange 2018

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Introduction

Hello everyone, I’m Malcolm Marsh or Malkie which I prefer a 74yrs old aspiring author from Nottingham. England. I have been writing for pleasure for many years and now I would like to pass on some of that pleasure to others. I write various styles under several pseudonyms. In my earlier years I was a musician and music still plays a major part in my life, I have a varied and eclectic taste, I often write with musical backing I find it stimulates my creative parts